


Bet On It

by kurokonekokilled



Category: Bleach
Genre: Blowjobs, Boxers, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair Pulling, M/M, face fucking, ichigo doesn't listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokonekokilled/pseuds/kurokonekokilled
Summary: Yakuza AU. Grimmjow runs an underground fighting ring for Aizen, and recently a newbie has been showing up and sweeping the floor with his men. He stops in to check the guy out one night, but a cute little redhead at the bar catches his eye. When he goes out to watch the fight, he's surprised to see the redhead in the ring, but he'll be even more surprised when he sees him out of it afterwards.





	Bet On It

**Author's Note:**

> This is.... just porn to make me happy. Here you go.

Grimmjow’s hands were casually stuffed in his pockets as he walked through the halls of Las Noches. He unclipped the chain of his coat from around his throat, shrugging it off and draping it over his arm. His silk shirt was mostly unbuttoned, showcasing the rugged scar that stretched most of his chest. The tailored slacks clung to his thighs, shifting with every step he took.

He'd just finished his monthly report to Aizen, the crime lord who funded his fighting ring, and was now on the way to a fight. One of his ex-fighters, Kenpachi, who now worked in the security division with Nnoitra, had mentioned there was someone who was tearing through his rostered fighters like tissue paper. The guy was scheduled to fight again tonight, and Grimmjow wanted to see what the little fucker was made of.

If he was good enough, Grimmjow might even offer him a highly coveted spot on his regular roster.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Really, beating Shawlong and Di Roy wasn't enough, he needed more power than those two could ever have. From now on, he needed people who were near his own level. So, he'd see.

Stepping out of the double doors of Las Noches, he immediately slid into the backseat of the car waiting for him.

“Take me to the club, I’ve got business there tonight,” he told Yylfort, leaning back and comfortably stretching his legs out in front of him, hands behind his head.

The ride there was relatively quiet, soft music playing over the speakers as they traversed the busy streets. It wasn't long before they were pulling up in front of Segunda, the club he ran his ring out of. Barrigan, the owner, was another of Aizen’s Espada, but Grimmjow did his best not to associate too much with the man. He was a dirty old pimp who dealt in death and girls too young and naive to know what they were getting into.

Eyes followed him as he stalked through the club, just as they always did. What with the blue hair and the mysterious scar, it was expected, not considering the blatant sexual appeal he radiated and the fact that he was so outrageously good looking that he was oft compared to a god. But he ignored the stares, just like he always did, tipping his head at the bartender as she smiled and nodded her head to the door.

She was one of Barrigan’s girls, Loly, he was pretty sure. He'd never really had much interaction with her, but he'd heard she was gunning to get into the Las Noches main house as a ‘special servant’ to Aizen. Too bad, since he was about ninety perfect certain the big man was railing that creepy dude with the smile.

He made his way through the door in the back, pulling his coat back on and linking the chain as he walked down the steps. The sounds of alcohol being tossed back and bets being placed were already filling the room as he stepped down into it, scanning for his fighters and anyone who might be an issue later on.

His eyes caught on a lithe little redhead, dark jeans practically painted onto shapely thighs and a perky ass, a red v-neck with a white 15 on the back emphasizing broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Grimmjow raked his gaze over the boy, letting it linger on his ass before moving up to his face. A jolt went through him when he realized the kid was already looking at him, sizing him up much the same.

There was a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, his black haired friend talking animatedly into his ear. Grimmjow had seen the black haired one before, the guy had a tattoo across his nose and a big wallet, and tended to make pretty accurate predictions. He'd wondered if the guy could fight himself many times before.

Grimmjow let his tongue flit out to wet his lips and sent the kid a wink before making his way back into his office. He still had nearly an hour before the first fight - the one that guy was scheduled for - would start. And he could always find the pretty little redhead after his work was done so he could take his time.

As it was, he flipped open the file he had on the first fight. He ignored the first few pages on his own fighter; he knew Edrad’s stats front and back and didn't need a refresher. So he skimmed forward until he reached the start of the opponent’s file.

Kurosaki Ichigo, age twenty two, 181 centimeters, 66 kilograms, A blood type, lived in Karakura. His dad was a doctor, one sister a star football player for the national women’s team, the other training to be a chef at Le Cordon Bleu.  

Grimmjow's brows furrowed as he continued to read. All around, Kurosaki Ichigo seemed to be the straight arrow type. He'd done his share of fighting, but it seemed to all be for protection of himself or other people. According to the file, he'd been offered several gigs as a professional fighter in a much more legal light, so it didn't exactly make sense why he was here of all places, in a dirty basement, taking part in a clearly illegal fighting ring.

Well, if the guy survived the night, Grimmjow would talk to him and see what he could find out to sate his curiosity. If not, it wouldn't be his problem anyway.

Glancing up, the clock on his computer told him it was nearly time for the fight, so he pushed out of his chair and made his way back up the hallway, where the din of the crowd was getting louder. The crowd parted for him as he made his way towards where the ring was set up. As he got closer, he caught a flash of bright orange hair, the image of the kid who was leaning up against the bar earlier coming to mind.

His jaw nearly dropped as the crowd cleared enough for him to make his way to the front lines, the boy he'd seen earlier standing off to one side of the ring wearing nothing but maroon basketball shorts and a cocky smirk. Edrad caught his eye and made his way over to the ropes, leaning down  to talk to Grimmjow.

“Everything ok, boss?” he asked gruffly.

Grimmjow shook his head incredulously.

“I heard there was some little bastard tearing through my men,” he answered, brows raised in disbelief. “That's your opponent? Not a stand in or anything?”

“That's him, boss,” Edrad laughed. “I didn't see him with Shaw or Di Roy, but they ain't that hard to get through. Tonight'll be a short fight.”

Grimmjow just hummed in response, stepping back into the crowd and looking back to the redhead. Once again, the boy was ready looking at him, interest in his eyes as he looked back and forth between Grimmjow and Edrad. Did the kid not know who he was?

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the kid - Kurosaki Ichigo, he knew his name now - shot him a searing look and winked at him, leaving Grimmjow to blink stupidly and breathe out a laugh. If Ichigo knew who he was and was acting like that, the kid was a bigger idiot than he thought. Of course, he had to be an idiot to step in the ring after seeing Edrad, but that was besides the point.

Edrad was probably three times Ichigo's size, in pretty much every way. He was broad where the kid was narrow, muscular where Ichigo was lean.

The redhead didn't stand a chance.

  
  


Five minutes later, Grimmjow was standing at the edge of the rioting crowd, his jaw at his feet. Edrad was on his side in the center of the ring, groaning in pain, a hand clutched to his ribs. And Ichigo was leaning up against the railings, taking a casual sip from his water bottle, not so much as breathing hard.

Edrad was hauled off, taken down the hallway to the medic they kept on hand, and Ichigo's black haired friend was already collecting his winnings as the kid climbed down from the ring. The next two fighters hadn't even made a move to get ready as they watched the redhead walk past them and down the hall to the changing rooms.

Grimmjow shook his stupor off and immediately followed, pushing the bathroom door open again the second it swung shut in front of him. Ichigo didn't look back as he made his way over to his bag, pulling out the shirt and jeans he'd been wearing before.

“I thought you said they had someone better for tonight, Shuu,” he grumbled, pulling the shorts he was wearing down and nearly giving Grimmjow a heart attack. His legs were perfect, lean and muscular, flexing with his movements, and his ass was barely covered by thin boxer briefs as he bent and started pulling his jeans up. “I didn't even break a sweat with that guy, and I gave him plenty of time to warm up before I got bored.”

Grimmjow finally found his voice.

“Who the fuck are you, kid?”

Ichigo finally looked over his shoulder, his brows furrowed and tension filling his limbs until he recognized the blue hair.

“Oh, hey,” he said brightly, straightening and turning, walking over to Grimmjow with a hand extended. “Shuu told me not to talk to you earlier. I'm Ichigo, you?”

Grimmjow couldn't help but let out a bewildered little laugh at the kid, taking his hand and shaking it once. He had a firm grip, calloused hands.

“Your friend tells you not to talk to me, and you immediately ignore him?” he asked, a brow raised teasingly. “Name’s Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, I run the place.”

“Oh yeah, I've heard of you,” Ichigo said as he turned, pulling his shirt back over his head - thank god, because Grimmjow could only control himself so much. “You're one of the Espada, right? Under Aizen?”

Grimmjow’s easygoing smile hardened as Ichigo glanced back at him, blue eyes going icy.

“Most people are smart enough not to tell someone that they know enough to be dangerous,” he drawled. “Unless you're threatening me?”

Ichigo laughed, clear and pure as it rang out through the bathroom. He turned, leaning back against one of the stalls and placing his hands behind his head casually.

“Not at all,” he said easily. “Just double checking my information, I guess. I've been wanting to talk to you; I didn't exactly expect you to come seek me out.”

Grimmjow crossed his arms over his chest, stalking forward until he was barely two feet from Ichigo, glaring down at him menacingly.

“And what did you want to talk to me about, boy?” he asked lowly, his voice coming out richer than he intended, almost purring.

He really wished he could get his mind out of the gutter right now, especially since the kid might very well prove to be actually dangerous. Who knew how much information he had? But all Grimmjow could think about was bending him over the sinks and making him scream.

“If you keep talking to me in that tone, this conversation’s going to go in a whole different direction,” Ichigo warned, eyes dark as they trailed over Grimmjow’s form. “Though from the way you were trying to eat me with your eyes earlier, I don't think you'd mind all that much.” He paused, partially to let that sink in, and partially to let his tongue trace his lips invitingly. “Anyway, I wanted to ask to be put on your regular roster and work my way up to being endorsed as your main fighter.”

Grimmjow held a hand up to stop the boy from talking any more for just a second. His head was already spinning with images of Ichigo on his knees as he tried to process the request that had just been made.

“First of all,” he growled, “behave. I'm not a patient man, and I don't tolerate teasing. If you want something, you can ask me - after we're done negotiating. Secondly, Kenpachi has been my top fighter for years, and he doesn't even fight for me anymore. No one’s been able to beat him since he got here.”

“I know,” Ichigo said simply. “Ken told me that my only way in would be to either beat him, or hold steady with you.”

Grimmjow's brows flew toward his hairline, his eyes boring into Ichigo.

“You know Kenpachi?” he asked quietly.

Just as Ichigo was about to respond, the door swung open and his black haired friend came rushing in.

“Ichi, you won't _believe_ how much you just made, I can't -”

He cut himself off abruptly, worry in his eyes as he took in the fact that Grimmjow was standing right in front of him, apparently talking to his best friend.

“Leave,” the blue haired man commanded.

Shuuhei shrunk back in fear for a second before realizing that he couldn't just leave Ichigo alone with what was practically a monster.

“Grimmjow-sama,” he simpered out, “I -”

“He's perfectly safe, you have my word,” Grimmjow cut him off. He was nothing if not a man of his word, and everyone knew that. “Now leave, I have business to discuss with Kurosaki.”

Ichigo shot his friend a confident nod, exaggeratedly shooing him off. Shuuhei huffed out a laugh, though it was still tinged with worry. Regardless, he placed the bulging envelope on the counter and backed out of the room.

“Yes, I know Ken,” Ichigo said as soon as the door swung shut. “A friend of mine tried to pickpocket him a few years back as a joke, I stepped in so she wouldn't get killed, and we've been sparring partners ever since.”

“Sparring partners,” Grimmjow repeated incredulously, unable to stop his laugh. “Forgive me for not believing you, kid, but Kenpachi would snap you in half like a twig.”

Ichigo raised a brow, pushing off the stall and making his way over to the counter towards his money as he spoke.

“The easiest way to take him down if you're fighting hand to hand is to go for his left knee. If you're fighting with bokken, it's smarter to go on the offensive, wait for him to start making jokes, then go for his right shoulder. He only ever feints to the left, and that's only when he's using his legs.” Ichigo's eyebrows raised as he finished counting his money. “What were the odds on this fight? I've never made half this much.”

Grimmjow stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed in exasperation. There was no way the kid could know that without having regularly fought Kenpachi, no matter how ridiculous the prospect seemed. To be fair, he had taken Edrad down like he was a ten year old boy just starting karate classes, but he and Kenpachi were in entirely different leagues.

“Fifty to one in Edrad’s favor,” he said slowly. “You made so much because everyone who steps through those doors has to bet at least fifty in fights with high odds.”

Ichigo whistled under his breath, flipping through the stack once again.

“The odds for the last two were only ten to one,” Ichigo drawled, watching Grimmjow amusedly as he strolled back to his bag and tucked the money securely inside. “Why the sudden increase?”

“You're awful nosy, aren't you?” he chuckled. “That'll get you in trouble here, kid. I raised the stakes because I wanted to see you fight, and there'd been whispers of you moving on to someone else to make more money.”

Ichigo smirked, stepping forward until he had to tip his head back to look Grimmjow in the eyes. He marched his fingers up the blue haired man’s chest teasingly, settling when they reached his collarbones.

“And did you see what you wanted to?” he asked softly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Or do you need more to convince you?”

Grimmjow sent the boy a slow smile as he reached up and wrapped his fingers around a slender wrist. He kept his eyes on Ichigo’s as he slowly twisted it, giving him plenty of time to resist, pulling it back and behind the redhead’s back until Ichigo had no choice but to allow himself to be turned and walked forward, pressed face first into the stall.

“Not gonna fight back?” Grimmjow crooned into his ear, pulling a little bit harder just to get a hiss out of Ichigo.

He certainly wasn't expecting the boy to press his hips back into his own and rub until Grimmjow had to press a hand to the small of his back and hold him still.

“Why would I fight when things are going exactly how I want them to?” Ichigo laughed breathlessly, shooting Grimmjow a heated look out of the corner of his eye.

Grimmjow let out a laugh, his fingers digging into Ichigo's wrist harshly.

“I told you that you could ask for what you want _after_ we finished negotiating,” he reminded the boy smoothly. “We are neither done, nor did you ask. Behave, or you'll never be invited back again. You fighting for me has nothing to do with me bending you over the sinks in a few minutes.”

He grinned wolfishly at the little jerk that went through Ichigo’s body, slowly releasing the boy’s wrist and stepping back. Watching as Ichigo shook out his arm and turned, he pulled a cigarette from his coat and lit up, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke off to the side as he studied the boy in front of him.

“I'll tentatively say that I'll put you on the roster; you'll fight Tuesdays and Fridays, two fights per night. Profit gets split thirty seventy, seventy going to you.” He took another drag, taking another good look at the redhead. “If I fuck you open tonight, will you be able to fight tomorrow? I want to get in the ring with you and see what you can do in a real fight.”

Ichigo’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips, his gaze scorching hot as it raked over Grimmjow.

“I'll be fine,” he said gruffly. “After all, I'll have to be able to fight after you fuck me on a pretty regular basis from now on. It'll be good to get a feel for what it's like.”

Grimmjow snarled, reaching forward faster than a snake and wrapping his fingers around that slender throat.

“Don't get cocky,” he growled.

Ichigo just smirked, tipping his head back and pressing his neck further into Grimmjow’s palm, his pulse as steady and calm as if they were discussing the weather.

“Isn't that your job?” he asked, the breathless tone to his voice slightly ruining the teasing delivery.

Grimmjow’s fingers flexed around his throat, and Ichigo couldn't stop the way his breath stuttered in his chest.

“You don't ever stop fighting, do you?” Grimmjow laughed, pressing forward until he was barely an inch from the boy.

“Not until you make me,” Ichigo rebutted with a grin, lifting one long leg up and wrapping it around Grimmjow’s hips. “Do you think you can manage me?”

Grimmjow’s tongue scraped the bottom edge of his teeth as he grinned, his other hand tossing his cigarette to the side before coming up to twine harshly in Ichigo's hair.

“Why don't you get on your knees, and we’ll find out, hm?” he crooned, watching as amber eyes darkened and pouty lips dropped open.

The hand around his throat dropped to his thigh, slowly pulling it away from Grimmjow’s body so the older man could step back. Ichigo shivered at the heat in those electric blue eyes, stepping forward like the man was a magnet.

A single blue brow lifted, and Ichigo found himself dropping to his knees before the thought fully registered in his mind. He'd meant to give Grimmjow a chase, to tease and have his fun before he let the man have his way, but it seemed that he was having much more of an affect on Ichigo than the redhead had planned for.

Grimmjow smirked down at him, stepping forward to run a calloused hand through his hair, pushing his head back and forcing Ichigo to meet his eyes.

“You look prettier down there than you do giving me sass,” Grimmjow said lowly, brushing his thumb over Ichigo's lip.

Ichigo grinned, nipping at that thumb and suckling the pad into his mouth to soothe the sting before dropping it.

“Who said I can't sass you from down here?” he asked, head cocked to the side challengingly.

Grimmjow glared down at him, fingers twisting to yank at his hair.

“We’ll have to discuss your attitude in more detail later,” he snarled. “For now, I'll just put you in your place. Get my pants down, then hands behind your back.”

Ichigo smirked, fingers coming up to deftly pull his belt from the loops, dropping it to the side before popping open the buttons on the tailored trousers. He leaned up, wincing at the pull on his hair, and caught the zipper between his teeth, keeping eye contact as he pulled it down slowly. Wasting no time, he practically yanked the trousers down muscled legs, pulling Grimmjow’s briefs down with them.

Grimmjow was barely half hard, but Ichigo's mouth watered regardless. He was all clean shaven, smooth skin, just made to run your mouth over endlessly. Ichigo leaned forward, tongue dipping out between his lips, but the hand in his hair tightened, stopping him mere inches from his prize. Amber eyes flew up to electric blue, needy and confused.

“You still haven't asked for what you want,” Grimmjow reminded him, a wicked little grin playing on his lips.

Ichigo glared at him, pulling against the hand in hair in an attempt to reach the cock that was slowly filling out right in front of his face. A harsh yank had a hiss falling from between clenched teeth, and Ichigo huffed out an annoyed sigh.

“Please may I suck your cock, your majesty?” he asked sarcastically, batting his lashes and sticking out his bottom lip pleadingly.

Grimmjow chuckled at him, brushing his other thumb over the boy’s exaggeratedly protruding lip.

“We’ll work on that later,” he promised, loosening his grip on Ichigo’s hair and tilting his hips forward invitingly. “Let's see if you're as impressive here as you are in the ring.”

Ichigo grinned up at him, leaning forward and licking a stripe up the underside of Grimmjow’s mostly hard cock, enjoying the way it twitched at the sensation. He leaned up, letting his lips drop open so he could puff hot air out over the head of his cock before dipping down and taking one off Grimmjow’s balls into his mouth and suckling, letting the vibrations of his laugh rumble through the older man’s body when the fingers in his hair jerked.

He released it with a soft pop, tilting his head to the side and curling his tongue up the length of Grimmjow’s cock, just barely brushing over the head.

“I'm far more impressive here, trust me,” he murmured thickly, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin.

Grimmjow grinned ferally down at him, fingers twisting in his hair and a look of excitement coloring his features.

“How about you open wide and prove it to me then?” he growled.

Ichigo dropped his jaw without preamble, the corners of his lips turning up into what would be a smile were Grimmjow not plowing forward and filling his mouth. He moaned at the first taste, tongue working fluidly along the underside as he allowed the man to pump forward into his mouth as he pleased. After a few moments of this, sensitive skin dragging back and forth over Ichigo’s squirming tongue, his brows furrowed together in… annoyance? Anger? Grimmjow couldn't quite tell. He pulled back and took a deep breath before speaking.

“What's got your panties in a bunch, puppy?” he asked, masking his worry with humor. “You wanted this.”

Ichigo scowled at the nickname, but didn't refute it, which Grimmjow took note of for future reference.

“No I didn't,” Ichigo grumbled.

Grimmjow felt his stomach drop, worry turning into horror and mingling with confusion. There was no way he’d misinterpreted the signals Ichigo gave him, was there?

“I wanted you to fuck my face,” Ichigo continued, “but instead you're being all soft and nice about it, and I can't even do it myself cause you wanna hold on to my hair.” He slanted a look up at Grimmjow, full of challenge. “Weren't you gonna put me in my place, big bad kitty cat?”

Grimmjow felt his lips peel back from his teeth, a thrilled snarl stretching his face as he wrapped his hands firmly around Ichigo’s head, leaving him nowhere to run.

“You asked for it, pup,” he warned. “Open that bratty mouth so I can fuck a hole through your skull.”

Ichigo actually startled at that, a moan falling from his lips before he caught it, even as his mouth dropped open wide, tongue sticking out and waiting.

Grimmjow leered down at him, guiding his cock forward into that pretty little mouth. He gave Ichigo half a second to take a breath, and then he was slamming his hips forward, laughing at the way Ichigo choked around the sudden intrusion.

He didn't let up, Ichigo's hands staying behind his back as he thrust forward. Grimmjow groaned as  he let loose for the first time in forever, letting Ichigo choke and gag without care as he fucked the boy’s face almost cruelly.

He hadn't had anyone who could take it like he liked in a long damn time, not since Barrigan sold Luppi off. But Ichigo, hell, the little brat was even better than Luppi, letting his jaw go slack and his eyes roll back in his head, but never stopping the movement of his tongue against Grimmjow’s cock. It was enough to have his knees weak, to have him yanking Ichigo’s face back and forth instead of thrusting forward just so he could keep his balance.

And Ichigo just let him, moaning around his cock like it was the best thing he'd ever experienced, like he'd never tasted anything better. It was only half the actual sensations that had Grimmjow’s cock throbbing, the boy’s blissed out expression doing the rest for him.

“Look at you,” he moaned, watching Ichigo’s unfocused eyes flutter open and zero in on him, hips twitching at the broken moan that came from the boy. “Pretty little pup down on your knees, right where you belong for me.”

Grimmjow tilted his head back, snapping his hips forward, reveling in the feeling, the wet sound of his cock violating Ichigo's mouth, the cut off gasps of air Ichigo was struggling for. Fuck, but the brat was so _good_ with his mouth, even when he barely had any control over it.

“Ah, fuck, gonna cum, pup,” he warned.

He'd been prepared to pull out, half wanted to see Ichigo's pretty face streaked with his cum, but the boy fought against his hand, burying his nose in the skin at the base of his cock, swallowing harshly around him, and that was it for him. His back bowed as he came harder than he could ever remember, filling Ichigo’s throat and watching him swallow quickly, a drop leaking from the side of his mouth.

Both of them were heaving for breath by the time Grimmjow pulled his cock free from Ichigo’s absolutely perfect mouth, watching him lick up the drop that he’d missed.

Ichigo watched him for a few moments, regaining his breath and swallowing harshly a few times to clear his throat. He'd be lucky if he was able to talk tomorrow.

“You're not bad at that,” he offered hoarsely, grinning at the way Grimmjow’s softening cock twitched at the sound of his voice.

“You aren't either,” Grimmjow grinned back from where he'd collapsed on one of the changing benches, pants around his ankles.

Comfortable silence stretched between them while Ichigo studied him, licking his lips. He was still absolutely rock hard in his jeans.

“You still gonna be able to bend me over the sinks like you promised, or are you all purr and no bite?” he goaded.

Grimmjow raised a slow brow as he trailed his gaze over Ichigo’s still kneeling form. He crooked a finger, beckoning Ichigo over.

“Ah,” he said as Ichigo started to rise. “Crawl, puppy.”

Ichigo looked at him incredulously, several scathing remarks on the tip of his tongue, but he could see Grimmjow’s cock starting to fill again already, and he really, _really_ wanted to get fucked right now. He bit back his words, lowered his head, and he crawled the few steps over until he was kneeling at Grimmjow’s feet again.

“Now, pup, we can either do this the nice way, or I can play you on my fingers until you're sobbing for my cock.”

“What's the nice way?” Ichigo asked with a grin, tilting his head inquisitively.

“I bend you over the sink like I promised and eat you out until your legs are shaking, and then I get you ready for my cock with my fingers until you're begging, and then you get to watch in the mirrors while I fuck you until you melt.”

Ichigo swallow thickly, his cock twitching with interest.

“And remind me of the mean way again?”

“I bend you over the sink and spank you until you cry for me, and then I play your prostate until Nakeem can hear you screaming over the next fight, and then I make you watch while I rearrange your guts with my cock.” He ran his tongue along the bottom of his canine as he looked down at Ichigo. “You can ask nicely for whichever you want, pup.”

“Oh, I can, can I?” Ichigo asked, smirk firmly in place.

And Grimmjow just _grinned_ , reaching forward and yanking Ichigo’s head back by his hair until his back was bowed.

Hard way it was, then. Neither of them could even pretend to want it any other way.


End file.
